


Amends

by theorchardofbones



Series: From Darkness to Light [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Chapter 10, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Things are tense after Altissia; there's conflict to be resolved between Gladiolus and Noct, but Gladio owes Prompto an apology too. Set during Chapter 10.Written forPromptio Weekday 6, under the prompt 'family'.





	Amends

**Author's Note:**

> Can you feel it? CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION?
> 
> Just one more day to go!
> 
> You can follow Prompto and Gladio's story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/756873).
> 
> Find me on tumblr! My personal is [here](https://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com), and my ffxv blog is [here](flowercrownsandchocobos.tumblr.com).

The sun is already sinking low by the time they get to the station outside the quarry. Gladiolus can feel the sky weighing down heavily on his shoulders; there’s a haze to the air, making everything painfully bright in the sunset.

He’s still bristling from the exchange with Noct on the train. The more distance between them right now, the better.

A railing surrounds the platform as the scenery of Cartanica stretches out beyond: dry, dusty roads, jagged hilltops and a hint of deep blue ocean. It might actually be nice, if it weren’t for everything. If he weren’t still pissed.

It takes him a little while to tell Prompto apart from the passengers where he stands, alone, facing out at the view.

Gladiolus takes a few steps forward, then reconsiders. If Prompto’s alone, maybe that’s the way he wants to be.

He’s halfway down the first set of steps towards the quarry when he stops, looks back. Prompto’s hair is turned gold by the sunset, but from here Gladiolus can see he’s not even looking at the view spanning out before him.

He heaves a sigh and turns around, heading back up.

Prompto doesn’t look up when Gladiolus approaches; doesn’t acknowledge him as he settles against the railing a couple feet away. For a while Gladiolus just lets it be as it is — looks out over the view in silence, taking in the world far below.

‘Gonna be dark soon,’ Prompto says flatly.

‘Would’ve liked to head down to the quarry by day,’ Gladiolus grumbles. ‘Got enough to deal with, without daemons on top.’ 

Prompto is quiet for a long while. Gladiolus hears the shift of clothing on skin as he adjusts his position; belatedly, he realises Prompto is looking at him. There’s something about the set of his mouth, the way he won’t quite meet Gladiolus’s eye, that makes it seem like he’s weighing up whether or not to spit something out.

In the end, he doesn’t. Just turns back to the view and leans on the rail with a sigh.

‘Iggy around?’ Gladiolus says.

Prompto answers with a vague wave of his hand, toward the direction of the stairs.

Ignis is sitting on a bench, his face turned toward the sun’s warmth. Gladiolus feels a twinge of irritation that he’s been left alone — that Noct never bothered to keep an eye on him. Gladiolus paces over and sits down heavily at his friend’s side, pushing the anger down momentarily for Ignis’s sake. 

‘Are we all ready to leave?’ Ignis says. 

‘Waiting on Noct,’ Gladiolus replies gruffly. ‘You sure you don’t wanna sit this one out?’

Ignis pushes the frames of his shades up his nose. 

‘If Noct needs me, I intend to be there.’

For all of Gladiolus’s best intentions, he feels a pulse of anger run through him. Anger, and frustration. After everything, Ignis is still willing to put his life on the line for the prince. He’s already given so much; it doesn’t seem fair to ask for more.

When Gladiolus sighs, Ignis tilts his head slightly. He’s still just as attuned to his friend’s mood as ever.

‘I may be injured,’ Ignis says levelly, ‘but my duties haven’t changed.’

Gladiolus knows when he’s outmatched. Short of demanding that Ignis stay behind, there’s not much he can do.

‘All right,’ he says. ‘Guess it’s up to Noct.’

* * *

There’s another train in the morning, to take them along their way; for now, they rest at the haven. The place is damp and muggy; smells like stagnant water and rot and the bodies of so many beasts slithering through the quarry.

It rains while they’re setting up camp and they seek refuge under the tent, eating from cans in silence.

Ignis’s words still mull around in Gladiolus’s head — what he said at the train station, and then later outside the tomb. He’s in it for the long haul, injured or not, but if he can’t keep up he won’t hold them back.

Truth is, Gladiolus can’t imagine continuing without Ignis — can’t imagine going on without any of them. Like it or not, they’ve become like family along this journey. Other than Iris, they’re the only people he has left.

He sighs and looks out at the rain streaming from the opening of the tent, the sound of it hitting the ground lost in the downpour.

Noct turns in first, sullenly putting his back to the rest of the group where he lies at the far edge of the tent. Gladiolus tries not to let it get to him, tries to give the prince some space. He may have expressed the necessary resolve to see this through, but he still needs time. They all do.

It’s not even seven and it’s pitch dark out, the kind of profound, ink-black darkness that seems to swallow the light of the moon whole.

A month earlier they would have sat out around the fire and shared stories, or just played games on their phones in companionable silence; by dawn he would have gotten up ahead of the others and gone for a run. Gladiolus is weary, but not tired — the thought of sleeping now, of waking up to darkness, rankles at him. 

Prompto sits curled up in corner of the tent by the opening, holding his phone right up by his nose. Reading comic books, probably. Ignis has earbuds in, listening to an audiobook he’s already heard a thousand times before.

Gladiolus sighs. It’s either sit here moping indoors while everybody pointedly ignores each other, or head out into the torrential rain. Not much of a choice.

He blows off some steam working out within the bounds of the haven. His hair and clothes are drenched within moments, but finally — _finally_ — it feels like he can breathe. He can ignore the darkness as he focuses on his regimen, can allow himself to get so absorbed that the world and all its problems start to fall away.

Stepping out into the rain seems like less of a good idea once he returns to the tent; dripping water, he has to shed layers and wring his clothes out before the others will let him in. He drapes shirt and pants alike on the makeshift clothes line strung across the entrance and slips into his bedroll.

Ignis turns in by nine; now it’s just Prompto — still squirrelled away in his little corner, hugging a blanket to his chest while he swipes through the pages of his comic book — and Gladiolus.

By half after, Gladiolus tires of plotting out the path of the train on the map function on his phone. He hears Prompto give a poorly-stifled yawn and glances up to see him rubbing at his eyes, not unlike a little kid kept too long between naps.

‘We should hit the hay,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Maybe we can make a break for it in the morning before the sun’s up.’

Prompto eyes his spot in the midst of all the bedding, wedged between Ignis and Gladiolus. With a little huff he pockets his phone and crawls over, wriggling in under the covers.

Gladiolus reaches up, dousing the lamp hanging overhead.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, willing the sleep to come; doesn’t know how long it is before he feels Prompto start tossing and turning beside him. He’s always been a bad sleeper, spending long hours in the middle of the night staring at his phone when the sleep won’t come — but tonight seems different. It’s like he can’t get settled.

Gladiolus can’t say he blames him.

He remembers how Prompto had seemed like he wanted to say something at the railing. Without trying too hard, he thinks he knows what it was about.

It’s not that he hasn’t been thinking about it, hasn’t been turning it over in his head. Hasn’t been thinking about the look of hurt on Prompto’s face when he had shoved him away during the fight with Noct.

Now that he’s had a little time to cool off, he’s not so proud of how he acted.

The tossing and turning goes on for another while until the blue glow of a phone screen lights up the tent and he hears Prompto sigh.

Come morning, they’ll board the train again — head toward the capital of Niflheim to see this thing through. If they’re going to talk, now’s probably their only shot.

‘Prom?’ 

Gladiolus heaves himself over onto his other side. Prompto glances up from his phone, an eyebrow lifted.

‘Yeah?’

Reaching out, Gladiolus puts a hand on Prompto’s — the one holding his phone up to his face.

‘Can we talk?’ he says. ‘No distractions?’

Prompto looks at his phone, at Gladiolus’s hand gently gripping his own. He says nothing for such a long time it seems like he’s going to refuse, but then he slips free of Gladiolus’s grasp, dims his phone’s screen and sets it down between them for light.

‘Okay,’ he says, turning on his side. ‘What’d you wanna talk about?’

Past Prompto’s shoulder, Ignis stirs a little. Gladiolus drops his voice.

‘About what happened,’ he says. ‘On the train. I kinda let my anger get the better of me, and then you stepped in and…’

He looks at Prompto for reassurance. All he gets is a blank expression and a gesture to continue.

‘I was outta line,’ he says, finally. ‘I shouldn’t’ve treated you like that.’

Prompto props himself up, elbow to the ground, resting his cheek in his hand. He gives Gladiolus a doubtful look, like he’s waiting for more.

‘That your way of saying sorry?’ he asks. His tone is a little cutting — a little more than Gladiolus would expect, but no more than he deserves.

‘Yeah,’ Gladiolus says. ‘I’m sorry, Prompto.’

He doesn’t think it’s enough, doesn’t think Prompto will let it go so easily. Gladiolus doesn’t blame him, either. It gets a nod out of him, which is something at the least; he watches as Prompto settles himself down, shutting off the light on his phone.

Gladiolus rolls over. In what little light there is outdoors, he can see the silhouette of the raindrops hitting the surface of the tent.

He feels warm fingers touch his shoulder; feels them move down his arm to rest on his bicep. He hears Prompto’s breath by his ear, hears him give a little sigh.

‘I forgive you,’ he says.

For a little while they lie like that, neither moving. The rain gushes down around them, barely loud enough to drown out the sound of Gladiolus’s pulse pounding in his ears. He can feel his skin prickling where Prompto touches it, where his breath warms the back of his neck.

‘Can you two kiss and make up in the morning?’ Noct says, his words muffled and slurred. ‘Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.’

Prompto’s touch is gone; Gladiolus feels the absence of it with a sinking sensation in his chest.

He could turn over now, could slip his arm under the covers and drape it around Prompto, holding him until they both drift off. The thought of it terrifies him as much as it thrills him.

He swallows, his throat thick.


End file.
